Failure
by The Heavens' Answer
Summary: “We both failed…” he breathed, his mouth mere millimeters from her face. “You let me capture you, and I let the egg get away. We both missed the first hurtle, but I don’t intend to miss the next. Do you?” MIGHT BE REOPENED.


_A/N: I imagined Durza a little more… well… clears throat embarrassedly… how to put it? Good looking? More… attractive? – than he appeared in the movie. Frankly, after watching it, I was quite disappointed. Potentially, the whole thing could be breath-taking and mind-blowing… but it wasn't. Pity._

_A/N/P.S. I'm not sure whether to leave this a one-shot or to continue, but anywho, on with the ficlet. Enjoy! (Well, try to… I can be a little gory at times.) Oh and I know he brought Arya to Uru'baen all alone on his charger (he killed the Urgals as soon as he realized the egg had gotten away), but I decided a spot in nature would clearly demonstrate the secluded sort of atmosphere a little better. So empty... and they're ALL alone... Bwahahahaha._

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**Failure.**

The egg had gotten away. He had failed. The King did not accept failure with grace. If he even had such a thing to start with.

Glancing about him and whipping his cloak about in the whirling wind with brisk movements fueled by his unwonted venom. He had failed. He, Durza, the Shade, had _failed_. He wouldn't have. He shouldn't have. He was a Shade. He was one of the most powerful magical beings in all of Alagaesia; he could obliterate an entire army with no more than a glance, if he wanted to.

Well, he thought angrily as he plunked himself down upon a stump of a tree. Perhaps that was stretching the truth a little too far. But still, he wouldn't have failed. If only he was permitted to do this mission alone without the blundering, foolish brutes. But as it was, apparently the King didn't trust him enough. He kicked a rock viciously, sending it whizzing away and accidentally bounced off the sleeping lead Urgal's upturned nose. Then again, the King didn't get to be the most feared and powerful being in Alagaesia by being trusting and compassionate, did he?

The Urgal snorted and rose to its feet, reaching a good nine feet tall. An ugly brute, this one was, uglier than the usual. Quick to anger and was always impatient. He was also blessed with twin gifts of misfortune and idiocy. He also just happened to be the same Urgal who ruined Durza's near perfectly planned ambush. Baring its ugly yellow fangs, which gleamed as it reflected the firelight, as he glanced around. " Who dares disturb my sleep?" he growled, stomping towards the only one he saw awake. Durza.

The Shade watched the beast with unveiled amusement. His dark maroon eyes glittering with malice; he was tempted to strike down the filthy swine before he took another step, but decided against it. He wanted to enjoy something, to take his mind of matters.

" You!" snarled the Urgal, unsheathing his sword with practiced ease. " You drajl. I will kill you. Ushnark won't care; you've already failed him!" he roared, lifting his sword above his head, the tip reaching towards the sky and it glittered and whistled eerily as if singing for a taste for his blood.

The mention of his failure coming from the mouth of that ugly creature sparked Durza's anger ablaze once more. Durza hissed and raised his hand with unearthly speed. The Urgal bellowed with indignity as he found his hand frozen, the blade simply millimeters from Durza's pale face.

" _Never, ever, speak to me of failure again_," the Shade whispered into the monster's hairy ear. He called the magic from his mind and his hand glowed with a pulsing crimson light; then with one fluid motion, he plunged his fingers, fixed at different points around the Urgal's heart, into its body.

The Urgal shrieked with pain, its howl tearing through the silent forest, causing birds to erupt from their roosts and startling all other creatures.

The rest of the group had noticed the commotion by now, and leapt to their feet.

" I wouldn't have failed if it weren't for you," Durza said a matter-of-factly, as he withdrew his hand, coated with sticky, oozing, dark Urgal blood and holding a still beating heart. A muffled thump resounded as it hit the soft green grass. His lip curled into a feral snarl as he eyed the charging group calmly, raising his voice so all could hear. "Touch me, and I swear I will kill you all." He dropped the pulsating organ on the ground and stepped on it, crushing it beneath his heel. The Urgal's hesitated, cursing him with the blackest oaths in their foul and guttural language, then took up their charge once more. From the spot, he muttered, " Garjzla". The eight remaining beasts died instantly as his deadly red bolts hit their targets.

He spun on his heel, causing a grotesque squelch to ring out through the still night air. His eyes narrowed as he walked, each step closer to the tent where the carrier elf was held brought his anger up another notch. He cursed the screeching birds and the chirping crickets and all living things that disturbed his much needed quiet in this accursed forest.

His rage churned within him still as he came to a stop in a clearing in the middle of the forest. He stared at the tree. The tree rested immobile as it did for centuries. The enraged Shade stared with defiance at the ancient willow, as if daring it to rebuke him for his failure as well. It was silent. A soft breeze blew through its leaves, rattling its branches.

Durza glared at the knot at the base of its trunk, focusing all his fury at it. He seethed, realizing it did nothing to relieve his temper. If anything, it heightened it. He could not stand peaceful things and could not ever come to appreciate things of nature. He wasn't that kind of a being, he was a Shade, and Shades despised those who did love nature and cared for it; namely, the elves.

An idea sparked in his cunning mind; a slow grin spread across his face.

He moved so swiftly it was like he glided back to the tent on silver wings, so light was his swift feet in his elation.

His cloak rustled ever so slightly as he entered. He noticed that the elf was still asleep, or unconscious. Whichever one, it did not matter to him.

He spotted her sword and bow, slung upon the ground unceremoniously. His anger flared again. Stupid brutes. He bent down low to pick the precious and elegant weapons up from the ground to place it where he could keep them safe and unspoiled; but not only for that reason leaving any sort of weapon with your enemy was just plain stupidity. It'd be like begging them to escape.

His fingers barely brushed the cool metal when a foot connected with his jaw, sending him flying backwards and into the side of the tent, stretching the fabric until it ballooned outwards ludicrously.

He shook the stars from his vision and found himself staring into the elf's face. Her smooth, taut, tanned skin was beaded with perspiration. Her dark eyes tormented by pain and her delicate hands gripping the sword he was about to pick up a second ago, tightly; pressing the sharpened edge his neck. She trembled as the exhaustion from that short exertion racked her body. The tip bit into his flesh, causing a trickle to drip, as it wavered and lowered, undeniably unintentionally.

A smile stretched across his face as he watched her fight her weakness. Her eyes burned anew with determination and the blade came at his heart much slower than she would've wished for he pushed it aside with his palm with ease. He watched her concentrate and try to call up the magic than ran through her veins as it did in her race's. Her face screwed up in focus; then she sagged with the effort. Not even a spark had lit her hand.

His smile grew wider as she stared up at him as he now towered above her, contempt clear on his face. With a whisper of words that barely escaped his full red lips, she was cast backwards upon the little cot they had set up.

"How does it feel to be helpless?" he murmured softly, drawing closer to her. He noticed as she cringed from revulsion. "Do you like it?"

He touched her face, stroking her cheek with his white spidery fingers. A surge of satisfaction ignited as he watched her, how vulnerable she was. She was so obviously nauseated by his clammy touch, but unable to even defend herself from it; let alone fight him. He had the power over her, he was in control.

"We both failed…" he breathed, his mouth mere millimeters from her face. "You let me capture you, and I let the egg get away. We both missed the first hurtle, but I don't intend to miss the next. Do you?"

He sent a probe into her mind, only to find it blocked by seemingly invincible barriers. Her lips tightened as she put her strength behind the defenses that protected her mind. She would never let anyone in it, no matter what the cost; because no matter what, the price to pay was always much more than her life.

But Durza still had the upper hand. He wasn't the one who was drugged and hopelessly weak, he wasn't the one lying on the bed unable to fend off the sadistic menace that loomed above, he wasn't the one unable to use magic. He wasn't the prisoner.

Rolling her over, he knew how she despised him, and how she always suppressed a shudder at his clammy touch; he decided to use that to heighten his advantage. He did not wish to expend more energy than was needed to break past her defenses and into her mind. He fingered the string laced over her back, knowing full well that it was what kept her plain leather shirt on.

She didn't even notice; such was the force of his probe and the strength she needed to keep it out.

He slowly untied the string. She jerked involuntarily as she felt his hand on her back; leaving a tiny crack to appear in her mind. The Shade delved into it quickly, but was still too slow. Even in her weakened state, she sealed it off before he could penetrate it. Still battering her shield relentlessly with his probe, he tossed the article aside.

As he forced her to roll over again, he found that she had gripped the ragged covering they had left her, keeping her modesty intact. He reached out to rip it out of her grasp, but she gripped his wrist in a vice-like grip, surprising him with her sudden vestige of strength. He was shocked, and in his hesitation, it was all she needed to send a volley of her own attacks into his mind.

He staggered backwards, gripping his head with both hands; such was the agony that tore through him. Each blow felt like an axe cleaving into his mind, like a butcher would do to his meat.

The pain subsided; then vanished. The elf stared at him with clouded eyes, her mouth set grimly. Her noble brow adorned with sweat.

He rose gingerly to his feet, gritting his teeth from the aftermaths of the pain. "You will fall," he hissed. "_You will fall_." His cloak whirled as he turned swiftly and pushed aside the thick fabric to exit the tent.

He stood there, just outside. The wind picked up, gathering itself to a throaty howl and petering into a reedy whine. It was trying to tell him something.

He pricked up his ears.

Then howled along with the wind in madness and despair as he heard what it was trying to say.

_Failure. _


End file.
